When I was 23, I moved 750 miles away with some friends to plant a church.  It was what I had determined that Jesus had in mind for me at the time.  Some people acted like it was a big leap of faith.  It didn’t seem that way to me, more like just the next step in that nebulous idea known as “my future.”  I was enthusiastic and evangelical (although at the time, I didn’t know that word, I was simply a Baptist.)  A large and stodgy Southern Baptist church was supporting our plant—do people still say church plant?—and I was glad our church was going to be so much more authentic, so much better than the hymns and suits of the mother ship.

It turns out the northeast suburbs of that city weren’t really looking for authentic, enthusiastic people from the Midwest to deliver their spirituality.  (If they were, then perhaps we were profoundly bad at marketing.)  For two years we did a lot of setting up and tearing down and talking (mostly to each other) about living this certain kind of life.  After a while, we quit.

I’ve been attending church my whole life, but in recent years I’ve not really participated in meaningful roles.  Today, I’m contemplating whether or not to help launch a new church.  I don’t know if I have the spark.  I don’t know if I care enough one way or the other.  Church is demanding and tiring.  I want to do it because there are so many churches just wasting people’s time and I want to see more that don’t.  But church work, well, I’m not that enthusiastic Jesus-loving 23 year-old anymore.  Am I still enough Christian to lead a church?  Do I believe in church? Do I think the local church is the hope of the world? Or at least some source of hope?  I think these are the first questions that need to be answered.

What does this mean to you?  What do you think Voltaire meant?

If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent Him.  Voltaire

Months and months ago, I posted about contemplating whether to have my baby christened and how I could convince my husband to be cool with it.  Well, after a long time of procrastination, the baby and his big brothers will all be christened at our Episcopal church next month.  Or should I just say ‘baptized’ for the big boys? Christening seems like just a baby thing.  Anyway, it turned out after all my rambling on and worrying about it, that my husband was fine with the christening.  I don’t know why I didn’t just ask earlier.  But then he wouldn’t give me his opinion about who the godparents should be.  Finally after asking him several times and getting very little response, I just told him, “OK, I’m going to fill out the forms tomorrow and I’ll just pick the godparents if that’s o.k. with you.”  So that’s what I did.  And he was fine with it.  Good grief, I guess I could have done that much earlier, too.

So the baby will be baptized at just over a year old and the big boys will be 8 and 5.  Whatever. I just want them to be fully part of our church community.  Also I get to put them in cute clothes and take pictures, and that’s always nice.

Anne, I know you don’t even get baby dedications, but you know me and my rituals.  How about other readers?  If you’re a parent, did you have your babies christened?  Is it odd that I’m waiting so late to do my kids?  Or is it odd that I even want to partake of such an old-fashioned ritual?

I didn’t go to church today.  I knew it we were having communion today.  My church does communion quarterly.  I was raised in a church that had monthly communion, although they would have never referred to it as anything as The Lord’s Supper.

I think my uncomfortableness with communion goes back to my childhood.  I was raised that you had to be right with God to partake.  I struggle, so I don’t feel right.  I have been to a Disciples of Christ church where the minister said communion was a new beginning.  Each time it was admitting our weaknesses and trying to become better.  That seemed less overwhelming, and I did not feel uncomfortable there.

I am a doubter.  I have always been one to question, although usually I didn’t question God.  I began my journey into doubt about 14 years ago.  The levels of doubt have changed, back and forth–but a hint of doubt always remained.

I have never quit church in the process, which is confusing to all, including my pastor.  He is glad I am there, but he has told me it is unusual.  Today during service I wondered why I am often inspired, by things I read, news events, nature, but rarely by church.

I realize I’ve been sharing other people’s thoughts more than my own lately, but that’s the beauty of the internets, eh?  Anyway, I liked McLaren’s response to this question on his blog.

http://brianmclaren.net/archives/blog/q-r-evangelism-and-evangelists.html#more

Anne Rice’s Facebook:
My faith in Christ is central to my life. My conversion from a pessimistic atheist lost in a world I didn’t understand, to an optimistic believer in a universe created and sustained by a loving God is crucial to me. But following Christ does not mean following His followers. Christ is infinitely more important than Christianity and always will be, no matter what Christianity is, has been, or might become.

I am encouraged by this introduction to what I hope will be a great series of writing.  Reminds me that it has been too long since I sat with a group to wrestle with and interpret scripture.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/paul-raushenbush/the-complex-power-and-wis_b_658639.html

I had a great and restorative day of being myself (by myself) today.  I checked a book out from the library called Faith & Doubt because I loved this poem on the back cover:

GOD SAYS YES TO ME

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don’t paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I’m telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

–Kaylin Haught

Judith and I met for a weekend trip, We were sad that Rosemary wasn’t able to join us. Saturday night, Judith was looking at a newspaper and saw church listings. Originally, we had discussed our lack of interest in attending a church service during our time together. The ad blurb for the Unitarian church caught our attention. Even with a typo in the newspaper, we found their website.

There is freedom in exploring different churches while traveling. There is little chance of seeing these people again. Of course, reality was slightly different for us. Judith saw a former university professor. I saw a familiar face from my job at the university library.

I enjoyed our hour or so with the Unitarian Congregation. It was a small group, which can be uncomfortable for visitors. There is no crowd to hide in. I was a bit hesitant when I went to open the door, but I am so glad I went in. They were quick to greet us and include us wholeheartedly. The conversation seemed to eerily mesh with discussions Judith and I had the previous evening. There was no grand conclusion of the discussion, no perfect answer to our struggles. It was openness and discussion–most importantly community.